Follow Me Back
by Luro4
Summary: What if Erik hadn't died? What if Shuri had been forced by her kinda-virtuous bro to bring him back to life? Might possibly become Shuri/Erik (is that incest? They're cousins so...)


The first thing he sees is the white of the lab ceiling. It's spinning, like everything else around him, like his mind. His eyes flicker, still adjusting to the light after having been closed for – how long? It feels like forever. The room – no, more like the _atrium_ – that Princess calls her lab crystallizes into focus around him as his senses sharpen.

Someone's here.

His eyes dart across the limited areas he can see, frustrated by the almost-silent breathing he can hear but not _find._ This is the hell he's been sent to, surely. Condemned for all eternity to the place he hates, companionship just out of reach.

As his body slowly starts to recover, he can feel the blood that is flowing through his still-unmoving limbs. The feeling comes back into his chest, a tingling sensation flooding his arms and legs. His heart rate goes up, then slows as he approaches normal.

If anything can ever be normal again.

 _Normal_ for Erik Killmonger was killing people. Wearing armour and working out and killing. Cleaning his guns, his blades. Making sure every single enemy was wiped out. Taking down governments, countries.

There comes a sigh from the unseen person. Erik shifts his waking legs and that's when he realises he's restrained. No, not restrained, completely helpless. Fierce anger burns in his chest as he struggles to break the vibranium bonds that hold him motionlessly in place.

He's alive.

The bitter hatred rises in his throat like bile. Why couldn't they just let him die? Why did they always have to be so freaking virtuous? He tries to lash out, half-forgetting his chains, but his arms cannot move.

'Cousin.'

T'Challa. Just the sound of his voice made Erik seethe with hatred. The dumb King _would_ go and draw attention to the one thing he was trying to forget, their blood-tie.

'You're no freaking cousin of mine.' He spits out, teeth grinding. He can't think of a sufficiently insulting name to call the cry-baby King.

'In character, yes. In blood, you are my uncle's son.'

 _Thanks for stating the obvious, my *king*._

Footsteps click across the tiles. They are too light to be T'Challa's, which left….

Erik freezes as he realises who it was. _Princess._ Just when he'd hoped she'd died of shock or some snake had bitten her.

'Brother, the usurper's vital signs are not being sent through to my screen. I need to be here to collect the data.'

 _The usurper._ Erik bares his teeth in a grin of pure malevolence. 'Whassup.'

He can sense T'Challa's displeasure.

'Shuri, you promised-'

 _Oh look. The little Princess has to promise her bro not to kill me._

'What?' Shuri sounds belligerent. 'For research purposes.'

 _Oh shit._

Erik tenses as she steps closer, examining the screen by the strange kind of operating table he was on. She activates one of her beads and copies the information into it. He resists the urge to tear her throat out, mainly because he can't get out of the bonds.

'Yo, cuz.'He snarls.

'Speak.' T'Challa says.

 _Speak? Does he think I'm one of his dogs? Does he even have dogs?_ Erik frowns. He wasn't normally distracted like this, which just drove home the point that nothing was normal. 'Ever gonna show your face? Or do I have to stay here looking at your sis for the rest of time? Which is not a rewarding experience.'

Shuri moves more into his line of vision, on purpose to annoy him. He sighs deeply, pondering just exactly what he did that was so utterly _wrong_ that got him into this torture chamber.

Took down a few governments? (Well, six or seven, but they were corrupt)

Destabilized a couple of countries? (They totally deserved it. Anyway, he can claim psychological damage for that)

Killed a few hundred people? (People die. We all do. Though, it seems, not him)

Nearly killed T'Challa? (Regret #1: not killing him. Regret #2: not killing his sister)

None of that is actually that bad…Karma really needs a reality check. If he ever gets out of this hell he'll give the bitch something to chew on…...Erik tunes T'Challa's droning voice out and fantasizes of all the slow, agonising deaths he's got lined up.

 _Hmmmmm…...Fire, acid, radiation, drowning, poison, bullet, blade…. choices, choices._

Then he became aware of T'Challa's voice changing tone. He saw Shuri tense, then swing round to face her brother.

T'Challa walked over to where Erik could see him and looked him dead in the eye.

'We need your help.'


End file.
